


Operation Kringle

by WittyWallflower



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, First Christmas, Holidays, Killian and Henry friendship, sitting on santa's lap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian spend his first holiday in our realm making sure it is the perfect Christmas for Emma and Henry. But first he needs to learn the true meaning of Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emma was patrolling the streets when Killian joined her. Not quite as backup; there was no immediate threat to the town. No, he simply wanted to spend some time alone with her and being on duty prevented him from whisking her off to dinner again. They walked side by side through the quiet town, nodding greetings at the occasional night owl resident on their way home to their bed. They were bundled against the chill winter dark but Emma’s cheeks were rosy and when he took her mitten-clad hand, she didn’t pull away.

On one block she stopped for half a moment with a laugh of surprise. Before them was a house lined with lights, small lights of festive colors than followed the eaves of the roof and framed the window. They twinkled merrily in the frosty air, casting a soft glow on the snow around them. Electric candlesticks flickered in the windows and there were plastic candy canes lining the front walk.

“What’s this fanciful dwelling then?” Killian inquired.

“Oh, nothing special." She smiled, slightly self conscious, and walked on. "I’m just surprised to see anyone with Christmas decorations up.” 

“Christmas, is it?” he said, falling into step beside her once more. He glanced back at the house once more. “The television box talks so nothing else lately, i take it its quite the occasion in this land.”

“It can be. Everyone gets the family together, has a enormous meal, spends all their money on presents to give their loved ones. For some people its the most important holiday of year.” Killian noticed she didn’t include herself in that statement.

“But not for you?” he prompted, wanting to know about her past, about everything that made her the woman she was. 

Emma shook her head and smiled. That brave-face smile that always had a touch of sadness hidden behind it, the one he wanted to kiss away and replace with a genuine smile of joy.

“If i was placed with a family when the holidays came around, there usually wasn’t a lot of money so Christmas was never a big deal. I never had the giant-tree-with-presents-piled-around-it thing and we know i didn't have family around to visit, so Christmas just wasn’t a big deal to me.”

“Well what of your parents? And Henry? I’m sure they wish to celebrate now that you’re all together.” His heart ached for young Emma, year after year watching others while she herself had so little to celebrate.

“The Enchanted Forest doesn’t celebrate Christmas, Killian. I’m sure they have their own holidays but now that everyone has their memories back the life they led here isn’t important anymore. They have no reason to celebrate traditions that they didn’t bring with them. Mary Margaret was crazy about Christmas, baked a million cookies and wore ugly sweaters. But Snow White? Christmas doesn't mean anything special to Snow White.”

“But Henry? He grew up in this land, surely the traditions still mean something to him.”

She smiled wryly, trying not to scoff at the idea. “Henry is 13. Teenagers don’t care about anything except food and video games. Oh he’ll say he believes in Santa Clause if it gets him a present, but he’s not interested.” Henry was too old for Santa, too old for snow angels, too old to get wrapped up in the magic of Christmas. Especially with all the actual magic he experienced in his life. 

Emma strolled on with apparently unconcern. Killian walking besides her regarded her with intense consideration, wondering at all the words she was leaving unsaid. His Swan had come far in the time he had known her, but opening up still didn't come easy to her. He suspected more emotion laid beneath than she expressed. 

 

\-----

“Greetings, lad.” Killian greeted Henry as he slid into the booth the boy sat at. 

The family had breakfast together at Granny's most mornings. Indeed they were subconsciously creatures of routine and thus fairly predictable, despite the many adventures that continually interrupted their daily lives. It made them all, Emma, Henry, her parents, even Regina at times, conveniently easy for him to locate. Or avoid as the need may arise.

Henry glanced up briefly before returning his attention to the small beeping device Emma said was a game; it seemed ever-present in Henry's hands since they had returned from New York. Killian had watched the boy play it before but didn’t see the appeal in watching the garish colors flash around the minuscule screen. 

“Hey Killian. Mom’s not here.” The boy’s fingers flew over the buttons once more and there was a small tinny sound of a man screaming in mortal anguish.

“Aye, I’m aware. Actually,” Killian leaned in close over the table and waited a moment before continuing until he was sure he had Henry’s attention. “Its you I wish to speak with. I need your help.”

Henry paused his, setting it on the table and listening curiously as Killian explained his dilemma.

“So you see," Killian concluded. "I think your mother deserves what she has never had before. A real Christmas. I can tell its important in this world and despite her insistence to the contrary I can tell it is important to her. And I intend to see that she gets it.”

“Okay, well… what do you need me for?” Henry tried to hide a smile. It was a really nice thing to do for his mom. He wondered if that meant Hook was serious about her. Things were so different now.

“Well mate, i know nothing about the bloody tradition. It isn’t celebrated in any of the other lands I have sailed to. If I don’t do it right, it wont be traditional thus defeating the point.”

He had a point there.

“Besides, arranging this will require a bit of cunning and stealth.” Killian arched a brow. Draping his arms along the back of the booth, he leaned back and gave the boy a smile full of mischief and challenge. “and I’ve noticed you take after all of your parents in those regards. Secret missions with your mothers and all. What do you say, lad?”

“Okay, yeah!" Henry let himself grin now. "We can call it… Operation Kringle!”

Confusion colored Killian's face and Henry realized he didn't get the reference. They'd really have to start from square one, and that meant they had a lot of work to do to pull this off.

\-----

Their lessons began right away, though Henry had lessons of his own. Killian accompanied the boy on his walk to school and on the way they passed a few shops with small holiday displays in the window, prompting Henry to tell Killian the story of Christmas. Soon the man's head was reeling from an overload of details about babies born in mangers, lumps of coal in stockings, and portly men in gaudy clothing.

“So this ‘Santa Clause’ of the many aliases flies throughout the land and delivers gifts to children in a sleigh pulled by magical reindeer?” Killian asked, now better educated in the etymology of the codename 'Operation Kringle'.

“Yeah, but only kids believe in that.” Henry said with a shrug. "Parents take their kids to sit on his lap and pose for pictures, but its just some guy in a costume, Santa's not real."

“Seems to me we’ve all seen stranger things. As your storybook and fables were our land bleeding into this one, perhaps the legends of Christmas are real in some realm.”

Henry cocked his head to the side. That thought had not occurred to him. During the year in New York when he had no memory of magic, he had taken it for granted that Santa was nothing but a story, a pleasant fiction by adult to stir childhood imagination. Of course he knew that parents bought the gifts their children woke up to, but maybe that wasn’t true everywhere. Maybe there was a Santa, just like there really are giants and fairies and ogres.

\-----

Their lessons continued early the next afternoon. The school let out early for the mid-winter vacation so they had the loft to themselves until the other adults returned from whatever it was they did in their everyday adult lives when they weren't fighting villains and breaking curses. Plenty of time for a little holiday research.

Getting Killian to walk the plank would be easier than getting him to watch Christmas movies. As a man unused to being quietly passive, getting him to sit through any movie was difficult. He fidgeted a lot. He frequently interrupted with questions and comments, his tone acerbic with annoyance at his own lack of understanding. Being so unfamiliar with the culture of this land, Henry had to explain much to him.

“I still don’t understand the significance of a lamp shaped like a woman’s leg.” He stated with a curt shake of his head that indicated he was done attempting to do so.

“And of course the boy injures himself!” Killian insisted before Henry could reply. “You don’t just hand a lad a weapon and not teach him how to use it. When your father was a part of my crew, he wasn’t allowed to handle a real cutlass till he could best a member of my own crew with a wooden one.” The indignation on his face was replace by a slight smile at the memories. He chuckled. "The bruises Bae gave Smee lasted for weeks. I thought the man would never stop sulking."

"My dad used to swordfight with me too." Henry's face was somber for a moment as he thought of his lost father. 

"Aye lad," Killian put a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder. 

Henry and Neal had had so little time together. The whole bloody mess was unfair to a family that, if not for circumstances and misunderstandings, would have grown strong together through the years. They'd be immersed in their own long-standing holiday traditions. As Killian watched Henry tried to shake the sadness off, giving him a lopsided smile. The same brave-face smile his mother wore, the one that made him want to cross realms and break curses. He couldn't give them Bae back. But he could give them a proper Christmas. But first, to cheer up the boy...

"You know lad, I've a couple swords I brought over to this realm with me. You'll need to keep your skills sharp, no saying when another ice queen or giant may drop by to stir up trouble." Killian glanced at the television and noticed the film was ending. He turned back to the boy with a gently encouraging smile. "Shall we have a break to spar for a bit?" 

\-----


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian arranges for Emma to sit on Santa's lap.

A few days later Killian joined Emma outside of Granny's. Her breath steamed in the morning air as she tugged on matching mittens and a hat

“Shall we take a walk in the park, love?” He asked, smiling flirtatiously as he kissed her cheek gently in greeting. 

“A walk in the park?” she eyed him dubiously even as her lips curled in a tiny smile at the sweet gesture of affection. “Killian, its the middle of winter, not exactly peak park walking season."

“Come now, Swan." he teased "After surviving the ice wall, you’re not going to let a chill breeze scare you off, are you?” 

His smile was challenging and whats more she knew he was purposely egging her on. But the fighter inside of her still wouldn't let her back down from a little cold. With a sigh and a slight smile she gave her consent and Killian slipped his hand into hers, leading them towards the small park by the pond. His fingers were like ice; she could feel them even through her mittens. But he refused to wear the single mitten Mary Margaret had knitted for him. Emma knew it fit fine; Snow had insisted he try it on and model it when she had given him the gift. Her own were pretty warm and comfortable, as she suspected his would be if he bothered to put it wear it.

For a few weeks Emma had suspected he’d lost it. It seemed a fair and logical assumption; it seemed like she herself lost three pairs of glove every winter. But then one night when Killian was walking her back to the loft after dinner and, while giving her a kiss, raised his hand to caress her cheek. She’d nearly jumped out of her skin when his frigid fingers touched her. She’d teased him for not having the mitten on them, implying that he’d hated Mary Margaret's knitting or felt he was too macho to wear it. But he’s only smiled and pulled the mitten from his pocket to wave before her.

“On the contrary, her gift was quite touching and i rather like it.” The admission seemed sheepish as he tucked the mitten out of sight once more.

Emma had been touched. Despite the fact that he clearly had no use for it, he’d had it on him all along, zipped up inside that leather jacket. He wasn’t the most sentimental guy in 3 realms so she was surprised he bothered to carry it around. But why didn’t he use it since it was there? She had to ask.

“I’ve only the one hand as it is Swan,: he answered, wrapping said hand around her own again. She suppressed a shiver at the cold touch. “Half the fingers a man should have. With that mitten, warm as it may be, I’d be even less a man without the full use of the remaining five.”

His tone was light and unconcerned; really, the cold was a minor inconvenience to him if it meant he could more easily touch her. Skin to skin contact was worth the risk of chilblains. His words wormed their way inside Emma slowly and it took a few more steps before she realized what it was she didn’t like about them and stopped.

“Killian.” Her hand on his arm stopped him beside her and he lifted a brow in query. Her face was serious, her eyes focused on his. “You know I don’t think of you as less than the next man because of your hook, right? I didn’t think you were somehow more than you are now during our first date when you had your hand back.”

His teasing brow fell and steadily regarded the woman before him, the one who seemed to accept him despite everything: despite his shortcomings, despite his past, despite everything he had once done to her an her loved ones. If he’d had that other hand now, it would be clenched tight into a fist as he thought of every reason Emma Swan had to hate the man he was. But he brushed those thoughts aside. He wasn't going to let his past taint the present. Somehow Emma Swan didn’t hate him. Somehow she had opened her heart to him. And every moment he spent with her he was grateful for it.

“Aye, Swan.” He swallowed the emotions he felt at her faith in him. Loosing her hand, he slung his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close so he could press a kiss to the top of her head. Or rather the knit cap that contained her sunny curls. “I know.”

Emma leaned into his embrace for a moment before they set off again, strolling side by side with Killian’s arm around her. For a few moments they were alone in a snowy scene right out of Norman Rockwell. Emma looked about her, admiring how the snow draped the evergreen trees, sparkling in the light when the wind made the branches dance.

But as they rounded the corner and struck out on the path through the park, Emma became aware of others. Lots of others. There were people all around the park, trickling in from the town or wandering off in the direction of the parking lot. What could bring so many people out into the cold? Not that it was any worse than what they had experienced from Ingrid, but didn't these people have Netflix and hot cocoa at home? and cozy blankets?

She scanned the crowd with her sheriff senses attuned to the vibe. No one seemed hurt or scared, no one was calling for help. Indeed those nearest her seemed to be smiling. She dialed her alertness down just a notch as she realized that at the very least there didn't appear to be another magical mishap to worry about. But she was still confounded.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked, talking mostly to herself. Around the other side of the pond, near a small tent, she spotted a familiar head of grey hair. “I told Granny if she’d going to host another outdoor party she needs to file the proper permits.”

Emma was off. Killian called after her but she was already wending her way through the crowd. She returned smiles and greetings from the townspeople, so many in fact that it slowed her progress as she accept hand shakes and thanks from those she had save from an unhappy ending. The gratitude and kindness made a warm glow suffuse her. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or pride that made her blush and she let the mystery of the crowd distract her from questioning it too closely.

As she neared the tent across the park Emma realized it was not full of coffee urns and casserole dishes as she might have expected from one of Granny’s potlucks. Instead there was a large chair. Chair, hell. She couldn’t call it anything less than a throne, though she suspected her parents and Regina would be less than impressed by it. But the red velvet cushion was plush and the light-colored wood has been polished until it shone like gold. Garlands of holly framed the entrance to the tent.

“What the…” Emma started to say again but the words were halted when a man emerged from behind the tend to take his place on the throne. A very fat, very jolly little man dressed all in red with white hair, rosy red cheeks, and a flowing white beard to completely the perfect picture. She didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or laugh aloud.

Santa. They actually had a Santa Clause in the park. It seemed odd since most of Storybrooke hadn’t really celebrated holidays since they got their memories back. But she could see a small group of very excited children lining up. It was nice that they did it for the kid. Every kid deserved a chance to be swept away by the magic of Christmas. She wondered if Henry had ever taken a photo with Santa. He was far too old for that now of course, but maybe Regina had a picture from his younger days.

Killian had threaded his way through the crowd behind her and came now to her side. She didn’t notice him studying her reaction with more interest than he gave the scene before him. She might have wondered at the vested interest he seemed to have in this, why he'd had a yen for a frosty walk in the park today of all days. When she did turn to him he gave her a dazingly and very innocent smile to distract her.

“Ah, that Santa fellow, is it?" he asked "The one who breaks into homes to pillage their bakes goods?”

She had to smile. “He doesn’t steal the cookies, people leave them out for him.”

“Rather takes the fun out of it, if you ask me.”

“Well, Santa’s not a pirate. He’s more interested in leaving presents for good little boys and girls than he is in looting the place.”

“And what has Santa brought you, Swan?”

“Nothing I ever asked for.” She muttered. She hadn’t intended to to be audible but she saw his brows knit together and hurried on in a lighter, teasing tone before he could ask more. “What makes you think I was ever a good girl?”

He wasn’t fooled by the sass but he could tell she didn't wish to talk about it. He may know comparatively little about her world, but he’d been around long enough to know that life was never easy for an orphan no matter what realm they lived in. The wounds of childhood stayed with one for a long time, and it disturbed him to be forced to acknowledge that there would always be battles she had to fight without him and demons he couldn't help her slay. It was a comfort to know she was more than a match for any foe across the realms on her own; fighting by her side was simply the best way he knew to demonstrate his respect for her without it being mistaken with his very real appreciation for her physical asset. 

“Whatever mischief you may have worked a child, you’re the Savior now. I’m sure that must be enough to put you in Sir Clause’s good graces.” He tried to tease a smile back to her face.

“Maybe.” She said. It was tiny but he succeeded.

“Well, you certainly wont get anything if you don’t ask. Looks like the queue has thinned a bit. Your turn to sit on his lap and tell him what you wish for." 

“Oh no,” she said, holding a hand up in protest. He ignored it and advanced on her, his eyes daring her as he forced her to step back… in exactly the direct she hoped to avoid. “This is for kids, Killian. Adults don’t believe in Santa Clause, he’d just a-“

“Fairy tale? Isn’t that what you thought about your parents? For that matter, wasn’t I just a fairy tale to you as well until we met?”

Killian had a point but still. If there really was a Santa, he was not in this realm delivering Furbys and iPods.

“Come, Swan. What harm can it do? Perch yourself on his knee and ask for your heart’s desire. If you don’t get it, I will concede this Santa fellow is nothing but a charlatan. But who knows? If a miracle is going to happen to anyone, why not the Savior?”

He tried not to plead, keeping his smile casual as if he were entirely unconcerned about what she opt to do. She hesitated and a shadow flashed behind her eyes, so fleeting he wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn't been studying her so intently

“Did you never meet Santa as a child, Emma?” his voice was tender.

She sucked in a breath, surprised he’d hit the nail on the head so quickly. It was silly, but when she was young she’d always envied the children she saw at Santa’s Village at the mall. Little girls and boys dressed in their Christmas best, parents loaded down with shopping bags full of presents in tow. She had envied their smiled and the way they asked for gifts, confident they would appear beneath the tree on Christmas morning. While Emma herself was never confident there would even be a tree, let alone presents for her underneath it. Never knowing if the foster home she was in at the time would bother spending money on a gift for a girl who would be gone again in a few months.

“No, I never did.” she admitted simply. There was a wealth of bad memories behind her words and they both knew it. But Killian wasn’t about to let her past spoil the day either.

“Well then, shall we?” 

But he wasn’t asking. He took took her hand again and took her in tow until they were in line behind the last child. She tried to demure but he swept her excuses aside, jollying her out of her morose memories by making lurid and hilarious suggestions of what she should ask for. The shadow was quickly replaced by tears of mirth.

 

Then it was her turn. She felt more than a little foolish as she stepped inside the tent. Was she, an adult, really going to sit on Santa’s lap? Was this a thing that was really happening? What would the town think to see their Savior and sheriff acting in a way her own son would find childish? But then she thought this was probably the least weird thing she had done since the day she arrived in town.

With a sigh of acceptance she approached the bearded man. At first she tried to seat herself on the arm of the throne to spare “Santa” her weight. She was not a wiry 7-year-old. But he tugged her into his lap before she could protest. She fought the reflex to squirm away in embarrassment and turned to look at Killian who was fighting an amused smile. Someone she hadn't noticed before knelt down before the throne and lifted a camera. One of the dwarfs, she thought as the flash from the camera blinded her before she could protest. There did not need to be photographic evidence of this moment. Whoever it was was gone when the spots stopped swimming before her eyes. Scowling at Killian for a moment, Emma then turned and regarded the man of the moment. 

“Well now young lady, you tell Santy Clause what he can bring you for Christmas. I can tell from that shiny sheriff’s star that you’re a very good girl indeed who deserves something special.”

He was disguising his voice, doubtlessly to avoid spoiling the illusion for the kids. It wouldn't do for “Santa” to be recognized. Emma’s eye’s narrowed as she contemplated the mystery but whoever he was he wasn't about to break character. She would play along but she noticed Killian watching their every move, hovering closer to the open flap of the tent. Was he jealous of her sitting on another man’s lap? Did he think a man wearing a fake beard and a pillow stuffed under his shirt was going to make a pass at her? Still, she decided to twist the screw a bit… just for fun.

Leaning close, she cupped a hand over Santa’s ear to whisper to him. At first she just tried to crack his facade with some of the more outlandish suggestions from Hook but the costumed man was unflappable. Finally she gave in and told Santa what her heart really desired, realizing even as she did that it wasn’t exactly something that could be wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon. Santa nodded sagely, giving her a wink and a nod as she sat upright. She had to smile at that, and wonder again who was under the costume. The fake white beard obscured so much of the face and blush has been used to make his cheeks so rosy, but she thought something was familiar about the shape of the nose. Suddenly the pieces fell into place and she knew exactly who she was speaking to.

“Grumpy?!” She was astounded. Quite possibly the last person in town she would expect to find playing Santa and making nice with the kids. “Is that you?!”

‘Santa’ froze for a moment then chuckled in a very convincingly old-man kind of way. “Why no, I’m Santa. Who is this Grumpy fellow? He doesn’t sound like a very good boy.”

But she knew now that he was lying. Emma’s fingers snagged the white beard laying on his chest and tugged at it, pulling it down far enough to confirm her suspicions. The dwarf yelped in surprise and ducked his head to shield himself from the crowd.

“Easy, sister!” Grumpy grumbled in his unaltered voice, trying to adjust the beard to cover his face once more. “This is for the kids. They think they’re meeting Santy Clause and if they see my ugly mug instead they’ll be scarred for life!”


End file.
